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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24699700">Haunted Bones</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canadian_Alygator/pseuds/Canadian_Alygator'>Canadian_Alygator</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Depression, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Formerly Tranquil Inquisitor (Dragon Age), I Suck At Tags lol, I just want them to be happy, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mage Hawke (Dragon Age), Mage Inquisitor (Dragon Age), References to Depression, Rite of Tranquility, Smut, Tranquil Hawke (Dragon Age), Tranquil Mages, Trust Issues, but we are talking about me writing here... happy doesn't come easy :') oops, just going to wail at my feelings for these idiots</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 09:34:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,942</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24699700</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canadian_Alygator/pseuds/Canadian_Alygator</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke made the ultimate sacrifice to save the man he loved. And for it, he was made tranquil. Brought to the conclave by Templars who would delight in the insult of the 'Champions' fate. Only it would seem this choice would perhaps become Hawkes one hope for salvation from the brand that stripped him of all he truly was...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anders &amp; Male Hawke, Anders/Hawke (Dragon Age), Anders/Hawke/Justice, Anders/Male Hawke, Anders/Male Hawke/Justice</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. A Broken Promise</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here we go. Hawkequisition!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span> He held him close, pressing a soft kiss upon his lovers shoulder. Hawkes back pressed firmly against Anders' chest, his arms encasing his love. The heavy beat of his heart felt in their closeness. Another nightmare had plagued Hawke. Too often it had seemed the other mage was plagued by the horrid dreams - haunted by the tattered ghosts of his past. All the dreadful things his love had endured through… Often Anders found himself wishing there was more he could do. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span> A wish that he had in that very moment. Once again he’d woken Hawke, drawing his warm body into an embrace as Anders did what he could to sooth him. His voice came out barely a whisper. The tone though was far too sobering, as were the words.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span> “</span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>Promise me, Anders. If ever the day comes that I’m made tranquil…</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span> Anders went still. Frown furrowing his brow. A possible future he would never want to entertain. A fate that he would never wish upon an enemy, let alone the love of his life. Tranquil. A word that disturbed. Invoked such a horror in his heart. Hardly a word that fits it’s meaning when it comes to mages. It might as well have been called the mark of death.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>That day will never come,</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span> Imagining having to witness the love of his life with that sobering brand upon his forehead… It was enough to inspire a shiver through his body. Anders did not wish to speak of such possibilities - or what it was he knew Hawke was asking of him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>Anders… If it does - promise me. You will do for me what you did for Karl. I cannot bear the idea of existing as some - ambling corpse devoid of emotions-</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span> Everything in him wanted to avoid this. Avoid entertaining the possibility that if he made this promise - he may be called to go through with it. Anders knew death was better than tranquility - he understood how Hawke felt. And he would wish to be mercifully put down if it was himself. Maybe it was just thinking of the finality of it. Of death.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>It won’t happen - Hawke. I’ll never allow it. It’s just a nightmare - it’s not going to happen...</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span> Hawke turned, deep blue eyes looking black in the dark of the room. The firm, muscled arms wrapping around Anders. Forehead pressing against his. Leg tangling over him. Anders ran a hand along his cheek, fingers gently running through Hawkes beard. Frown furrowing his brow.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>Life has taught me many times over that despite the intention to never let anything bad happen to the people we love - it still happens. Please. Anders. Promise me. I’d already be dead. You’d just be - taking care of the dead shell.</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A pang ran through his chest. Not wanting to give the promise. But knowing it was one that he needed to make. A heavy sigh pushed from his chest, leaning slightly to steal a chaste kiss.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>If it puts your mind at ease… I promise... But it will never happen…</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>”</span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span> The memory of the rough sun soaked skin against his, the warmth of Hawkes body in his arms. It had always been worth the discourse with justice. Hawke became the reason for his heart to continue beating in his chest, and Anders had felt that over time, even justice had grown fond of the witty mage as he’d stood beside them. Even after the Chantry explosion - he had spared Anders. Helped him escape. Hawke alone had not condemned him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> His love was supposed to follow shortly after. But something had prevented their reunion. And with a sense of fear nagging at his heart, Anders had returned quietly to find his better half. Hoping he’d find the other man, and get a reaming for being so daft as to return to Kirkwall… But that would not be the case.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Guilt twisted in his chest. Had this been Hawkes plan all along? Had this been why he’d made him promise such a thing? To kill him if he was ever made tranquil? Despair stole the breath from his lungs. He’d risked so much to come back - to look for his love. Only to find him like this. Empty. The ability to love, to feel emotions - laid waste. Standing vigil with the Templars. A glaring warning to everyone who looked. A warning for any mages that may still be around in hiding.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> No doubt to vilify their former Champion. It cut deeper the more information Anders uncovered as he slunk around in the shadows of Kirkwall. That his beloved had been taken in by the Templars for associating with him. Only to be somehow convinced that </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hawke </span>
  </em>
  <span>was the one behind the explosion. That it was him that had been the deceived party in it. The rumors of his love for Hawke being what drove Anders to a ‘false confession’. He was still a fugitive - but the grave crimes against him had been placed on Hawke. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> The templars not being able to find him... He had a nagging suspicion that Hawke had sacrificed the chance of finding Anders to purge himself of the memory of where they were to reunite. He ached for him, to feel the firm muscled body against his, to feel that rise and fall of his lovers chest, the taste of Hawkes' passionate kiss. But that couldn’t truly happen again. As the mark branded upon his forehead mocked Anders. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>If it puts your mind at ease… I promise... But it will never happen…</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Mocking words fluttered through his mind. Nausea heavy in his guts. Mouth devoid of moisture. Eyes burning with the sting of tears. A painful, lonely rage crushing his heart. From afar he looked on. Tormented. Knowing what he had promised to do. Knowing what he had to do - what he should do.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> He hated himself as he closed his eyes, muttering an apology that Hawke could not hear,</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>I’m sorry, my love. I am not strong enough… not for this…</b>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Anders disappeared back into the shadows. The empty shell of Hawke held a hope that maybe… somehow… perhaps there could be a cure. The emotionless shell of his lover was better than a corpse.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> It was selfish. But Anders had to try to at least try to bring Hawke back from oblivion...</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Bury Me Deep Underneath</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay - ahead of time. This is probably my shortest chapter. But it's a feels trip. Okay? Okay. *sobs*</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span> Searing. That was one word that Hawke could use. White hot. Slicing through every cell of his being. Overwhelmed and overthrown. Bringing him to his hands and knees. The depth of it robbing his chest of breath. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Too much. It was too much.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> And then someone was screaming. Someone was screaming. Raw, agonized screams that made a voice hoarse… He realized it was his own voice. Beren Hawke shook, Mouth grasping at the stale air. Eyes blurred. It was then he realized he was crying as well. On the ground like a child overcome with emotion. But it was so much - it was too much - each feeling too… Big. It ill fit his skin, stretching him, making him feel as if he’d burst at the seams. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Vomit splattered the ground below as the overload of senses continued to relentlessly violate his being. Driving him mad.Choking and wrenching on the contents of his guts. Far too distraught to take in anything else. The feelings - the emotions - they alone felt as if they would be his doom. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Chittering sounds reached his ears. The chilling pitter patter of many feet. Wild eyed Beren looked around. Horror filled him as he saw a herd of creatures - of insects … monsters. Massive spiders with their bulbus dully shon beady black eyes. A sight that was enough to send even a man in the middle of being torn apart emotionally into a panicked run. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Everything around him looked </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Off. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>  Feet heavy, he forced himself to run. Seeing a beacon of light ahead of himself. The steep incline to her loomed mockingly as he dragged in air, throat burning with the acidic wash of the spilled contents of his stomach. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> The emotions still felt like a thousand hands tearing at him from the inside, clawing him, trying to pull him apart. Trying to drag him under. He also crawled, clawed and grasped. Fleeing the demons behind him…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span> The light… Get to the light…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> It felt so far. And it felt like it took forever. The sounds of hundreds - perhaps thousands of spiders feet skittering behind him. Beren didn’t wish to look back to see how close they had gotten. As the light became a woman. Hand reaching, an unspoken supplication for help. She reached.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Light. So much light. Blinding and brilliant. His mind felt like there were holes in it. As once more he was on his hands and knees. In a wasteland. The air was cooler. The taste of iron on his tongue. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Blood. Confusion set deep into his bones. Skull hammering, brain throbbing, pulsing…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> It hurt. Not a physical hurt. There was so much of the other kind of hurt burning through him - Beren had no idea if he even had physical injuries. The taste of blood wasn’t even fully realized. Crawling - sharp rocks and debris unregistered. Once more he could hear feet. But they sounded more familiar. Along with the clinking of armor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Heavy. He felt so heavy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span> There was just too much.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Hawke collapsed against the ground, passed out. But even as unconsciousness took over, it did not give a reprieve from what felt like Weeks? Months? Years? - of caged emotion. Overwhelming him with everything he was feeling.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>me: wakes up<br/>my brain: hold on bitch, we're going on a FEELS trip<br/>me: but an adult didn't sign the permission slip! I don't wanna go<br/>my brain: hahhaa to bad get writing<br/>me: sobs in feels<br/>Ps: Also I was listening to some Apashe (Behind My Eyes) ft Lia  for this mess.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Resurrection</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span> It was like coming up for air for the first time in too long. But also having been inhaling mouthfuls of salt water. Emotions still felt ill fitting. Heavy in him. Like water trapped in the lungs. While finally out of the waters - he was still drowning. Hours had passed - or was it days? Slipping in and out of consciousness it was hard to tell. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Too long since he’d felt - anything. Hawke felt at best a frayed control over himself. Flashes and thoughts that hadn’t bothered him since the brand had been put upon him. Now they were crushing Beren from all sides. Destructive, infecting thoughts that seemed to seek his annihilation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Beren felt like a stranger in his own skin - emotions but a distant memory. To say it was alarming would be putting it lightly. Everything felt like it was amplified a hundred fold. He couldn’t fully remember what it had been like before. A faint shadow that looked vaguely familiar. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Forced into a crash course of learning to deal with all he was feeling. Had he ever really known? Hawke could recall how he’d deflected more than dealt with. Old heaped on new, heaped on - chaos.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Every second was torture. It was crushing. Each emotion seeming to be far too vast. Reaching way too deep. It seemed to render him paralyzed - and panicked. To be reconnected to himself - to the fade. It was devastating... It was...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span> So fucking glorious</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Every moment of the torture was horrid and it was beautiful. That numb, gaping nothing was also still clear in his memories. No love. No passion. No care. No… </span>
  <em>
    <span>Him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. For too long Beren had been in a state of sleep paralysis. And he hadn’t even realized it. Hadn’t even cared. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> As confusing as it was to hold the agony of traumas he hadn’t had a fuck to give about before. It was something. Something was so much better than </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Pain </span>
  </em>
  <span>was better than numbness. What had been done to him… It enraged him. Boiled under his skin. He’d been violated. Robbed of his emotions. They had performed the right of tranquility when he had clearly given them his wish to be executed instead. They had </span>
  <em>
    <span>defiled </span>
  </em>
  <span>him against his will.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> And because of it Beren had too long been living in a cold world of grey - of nothingness. Now he was tossed into the scorching flames. But how reverent he felt to the inferno. Better to burn alive then be lulled into the numbness of the frozen wasteland he’d been living. Since the rite had been performed - he’d been breathing. But truly - there had been no sign of life. Not really. The staggering blitz of emotions felt like a resurrection. And if one thought of it - could anyone coming back from the dead feel pleasant?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> So long trapped in a stagnant place that pulled him thin, into a wisp - a mockery of what he’d been. Existing but not alive. Not truly. A flash of warm eyes and a smile. A memory filling him with an ache - a longing. For the man he loved. Beren felt more aware of the loneliness that clenched his heart in it’s claws. Closing - crushing...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> The next pain jolted through his hand, echoing up his arm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> And this pain was physical. A hiss drawn from his lips as he felt the shackles upon his wrists. So much was going on in his own mind, he’d almost forgotten his physical self. But this jolted him back to reality. Back to the moment. Still choking on emotions. But he opened his eyes - the deep blue penetrating into the rather dismal lighting.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> A few torches barely lit the area around him. Honestly at a loss as to where he was. And why he’d been placed in shackles. Knowing himself once again - even if slightly - he knew there may be many reasons for this current situation before. But as a tranquil. It was hard enough to grasp the myriad of emotions, let alone try to glean even a slightly cognitive grasp of what had happened in the days leading up. Somehow getting his emotions shoved back down his throat fucked his mind. That or being an ambling corpse slave to his captives had been so dissociative that much of what he did was a meaningless jumble of fucks not given.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Whatever the reason. He was just as confused about the situation as he was with re-experiencing </span>
  <em>
    <span>feeling</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The sound of a door hitting stone could be heard. Hawke grit his teeth, using an exhausting amount of willpower to focus as he looked around the room. Guards stood sentinel around the room. And two women entered. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Wrote this to Cold Cold Cold by Cage the Elephant. Anyways. The last few days I’ve been trying to write out a take on Cass/Lily/Hawke conversation regarding the conclave but it never seemed just right for me. So I’ve decided to just go ahead and leave it for now. Maybe after I’ve had more time to flesh things out I can have Beren and Cassandra talk about what happened in the interrogation ext. But for now it’s just going to be left here so I can move forward and stop hitting my head against a wall :D lol</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Skin And Bones</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span> How did someone recover from the trauma of tranquility? The time they spent in an endless pit of numbness that had suffocated them. Smothered the sparks that made them - </span>
  <em>
    <span>them</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Hawke, during his time under the barbaric rite, there had been … so many abuses. His body was covered in scars - mocking reminders of what he had allowed people to do to him without question, without fight. And despite knowing that he simply… hadn’t cared. Hadn’t the ability to actually feel let alone care. Despite understanding intellectually it had not been his fault. He hadn’t really had a choice…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> It left the mage a worthless mess. Traumas having written scars on his mind as well as his skin. Having endured things that - that he couldn’t speak out loud to himself let alone to another person. So alone he bore the heavy load. Alone he faced the overwhelming ocean of emotions he’d so long been cut off from. Relentlessly they would ebb and wane. Crash and drag off as he slipped into dissociative states that then would be broken as anxiety and fear stirred upon realizing the settling numbness.. Worry that maybe he’d been relapsing back to that cold nothingness of tranquility. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> But that did not make him overly thrilled to still be breathing. A part of him had desperately longed to have been embraced by a true, physical death. Not just the mental and emotional one he’d experienced. So much damage to try and repair. Fuck - Hawke had been damaged before tranquility. Now? After? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> He was fucking laid waste. Beren felt as if pieces of himself had been scattered to the wind. Like feathers from a pillow on a windy day. While there was familiarity with the fractured pieces he had left of himself - he’d had no clue how to put himself back together. Or if it was possible. Part of him felt like he was just doomed to slowly go mad. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Often he’d pondered Anders’ words about tranquility when they’d first met. When they’d found Karl. The woeful finality of it. Yet Hawke could feel again. The fade once more made familiar. Yet he didn’t trust himself or his magic. After all. Barely having a grasp of his teetering emotions didn’t exactly make him the most excellent candidate for performing magic. He’d taken to travelling with twin daggers. A more physical approach to battles then he’d generally been accustomed to. But in its own way - it helped. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Gave him an acceptable release for the anger he wrestled with, gave a constructive outlet for the aggression. Perhaps it wasn’t exactly healthy that he’d imagine the faces of a series of templars that had inflicted many of the traumas he was trying to process. But it helped. There was so much more he should be doing. For mages. For the helpless caught in the crossfire. Yet Hawke felt like he was fighting with his hands tied behind his back. His own emotions being the strong bindings holding him back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>  Even if they did ‘need’ him - rather the mark on his hand that allowed him to close rifts… Hawke felt a number of the people he fought beside would rather cut him down if he did something to … wrong. Still, he couldn’t dull a hope in himself that maybe he could do some good for his people before he inevitably met his own end. Sure. Thedas needed saving from whatever the fuck had torn the sky open. But mages would surely suffer the worst of it if he failed. Often found himself wrestling with his bitterness and anger for the abuses mages faced because of fear and </span>
  <em>
    <span>weaponized </span>
  </em>
  <span>religion. Beren hadn’t been able to hold back his bitterness, and clearly chafed at some of the inquisition members. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> To many still, Beren understood he was perceived as a villain. He didn’t fucking care about that though. Call him villain - call him a monster. What baffled Hawke was the lack of anger at how people perceived as ‘superior’ abused those who had been born differently. It wasn’t just the mages. Hawke saw the suffering of the elves as well. And with the broken filter it just made him angrier. Perhaps that was also part of the fraying knots that also kept him from falling apart. Being angry not for himself, but for the countless others suffering for something they’d simply been born as. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t for the privileged he’d agreed to help close rifts and attempt to end the mess that had befallen Thedas. That much was sure. Having other people to fight for - it helped. And in helping mages - Hawke felt closer to the person he’d missed most of all. While Varric had been an unexpected face to show itself in the middle of the inquisition. It hadn’t been the one he’d ached to see. Hawke still hadn’t been sure if it was a blessing or a curse. Feeling like a fraud as Varric tried to coax him into conversation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Feeling like a false shade of what he’d been the last time his good friend had seen him. The dwarf had known him too well. He wasn’t sure yet if he’d rather be truly alone, then to have a friend who knew him so well before. Because he feared that if he let the people that had known the former incarnation of Beren Hawke close - they would realize he was a hopeless fucking mess. That maybe - finally - after all this time. They would all give up on him. He didn’t really care what the inquisition thought - but his friends. His makeshift family… Hawke only wanted only for them to be happy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> It was clear that how he was now would not make any of them happy. The merry band of misfits he called family - what had bound them together, what had made them family - it was their love for eachother. But the fucked up mess that was his mind now… He didn’t want to place that burden on any of them. And with Varric, part of him hoped that his friend would just give up on him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Varric though, he wasn’t the sort to give up on his people. Which was both endearing and stressful in this case for Hawke. They had all been going through the necessary motions over the weeks to bring stability to the Hinterlands. To gather people to the inquisition and play damage control for having what many called a monster named the Harold of Andraste. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> There had been no lack of work. Hunting down templars, closing rifts, taking out demon influenced wolves… Then they’d gone to the glittering eyesore (in his mind at least) that was Val Royeaux. Encountered the jackass that was the lord Seeker… Having collected a few more supporters. Reluctantly so when it came to Vivienne. Both of whom had clearly clashing ideals and views of the circle towers… And then Sera. The odd elf that he rather liked despite more keeping to listening to her rants with other members of the inquisition then trying to speak to her himself… And last of all had been in their first journey to the storm coast when they’d picked up The Iron Bull and his chargers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> If he was being honest - Hawke was doing what he could to avoid sitting still to long. And avoiding haven where a certain Commander of the inquisition gave him the desire to strangle the man. Possibly also do to past grievances with the man.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “</span>
  <b>Hey Bear cub,</b>
  <span>” the dwarf sat next to him, it had been a few days since he’d attempted to have an actual conversation with Beren.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “</span>
  <b>Varric</b>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Knowing Hawke didn’t want to talk he hesitated. But determined not to give up… Looking around before he offered a folded paper towards him, “</span>
  <b>this is for you.</b>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>Oh a love letter? Varric. I never knew you felt that way about me…</b>
  <span>” a haunt of his old self seemed to flicker before his friend, “</span>
  <b>I’m afraid you’ve just got too much chest hair for my liking.</b>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> He feigned offence, “</span>
  <b>I’ll have you know, people love my chest hair. And YOU’RE one to talk - I swear you’re part grizzly under those robes</b>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>You mean Cassandra?</b>
  <span>” he looked to the dwarf who he swore had the slightest hint of a blush. Ignoring the bear comment. While his friend exaggerated at the extent of his chest hair… He wasn’t exactly lacking either. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>Pft. No. That woman just wants to ring my neck,</b>
  <span>” he hesitated. Still holding out the letter. Lightly hitting the backs of hawkes hands with it, “</span>
  <b>take it. It’s not from me. It’s … From him.</b>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Hawkes eyes snapped to Varric, fully facing him. Throat going dry… “</span>
  <b>Him? You mean…</b>
  <span>” longing swelled in his heart…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “</span>
  <b>I sent a letter that managed to reach him thanks to Fenris the moment I was able after we got off the mountain. He has been helping mages - I’m sure that doesn’t surprise you. He’s got Woofgang with him…</b>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Hawke took the letter, “</span>
  <b>I’m glad, I’m sure they’ll take good care of each other…</b>
  <span>” His throat tightened. Wanting to read the letter… But fearing what might be in it.. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>I’m sure you all will be able to take care of each other soon enough,</b>
  <span>” Varric encouraged. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>Chances are soon enough, I’ll be dead. The physical dead at least. Like you said. This is beyond heroes.</b>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>Well good thing you’re not just a hero, but a champion,</b>
  <span>” Varric said. Though Hawke could tell even the dwarf wasn’t sure how they’d all survive this mess. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Hawke snorted. Varric actually smiled though, “</span>
  <b>you know… If you ever need to talk… Off the record. I won’t even put all of it in a book…</b>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> He knew Varric was trying to make him laugh. It at least caused his lips to curl momentarily. The letter heavy in his hand… He’d avoided talking to basically… everyone. Trying to make sense of what was in his head was bad enough. Trying to navigate social interactions felt daunting. “</span>
  <b>You - don’t have to stay because of me Varric. You know that, right? I’m…</b>
  <span>” he hesitated a moment, “</span>
  <b>I’m not the same...as I was…</b>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>That’s the beauty and bullshit of life Hawke. We are always changing. No one’s the same as they were… Well. If they are - they are really really boring and I have no idea how they do it…</b>
  <span>” Varric met his gaze, giving a sad smile, “</span>
  <b>and I know. But I want to be here. You’re my friend. Shit, you’re family Hawke.</b>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Looking away, focusing on the ground. “</span>
  <b>I worry I’m losing my mind</b>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Varric reached and gently set a hand on his shoulder, “</span>
  <b>listen chuckles, you were probably born mad,</b>
  <span>” the teasing actually made Beren laugh. He lightly elbowed his friend, “</span>
  <b>but in all seriousness. I’m here. If you need to talk. You’ve done a lot - you and blondie. A lot of good. There’s a lot more you both are going to do. And I hope I can be there beside you. I know all of our little fucked up family feels the same.</b>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Hawke snorted, a light crinkling around his eyes as he smirked, “we are a pretty fucked up little group, aren’t we?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>Sure as nugs shit,</b>
  <span>” Varric grinned back, not seeming to worry about how eager he was to once again be talking with his friend, “</span>
  <b>but for all our faults, the pasts we came from, it made us better for it. I think we’ve all learned from each other rather impressively - you know. After the initial cat fights.</b>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Beren nodded. Looking at the still sealed letter… “</span>
  <b>How… how has he been?</b>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Varric gave a knowing look, “</span>
  <b>I wont lie. He’s been… distraught. Blames himself for it all. I tell blondie you’d kick his ass for thinking it. He - told me about what you made him promise him…</b>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>Oh?</b>
  <span>” as if he didn’t know what Varric was referring to. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> He hesitated, “</span>
  <b>he was unable to give up on you. I’ll have you know the mans been working his ass off looking for a cure to tranquility…</b>
  <span>”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>But even he said tranquility was as good as getting beheaded. You don’t… You can’t come back from it…</b>
  <span>” - he argued but Beren knew if their places had been swapped he would have wanted to do the same. Find a cure. Save his love. Keep him alive… But what if he knew the true suffering that would come in the time he tried to find a cure? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “</span>
  <b>You know how I said we all learned from each other, Bear?</b>
  <span>” Hawke nodded, but frowned, “</span>
  <b>well. I think you’re absolute inability to give up on the people you care for and that almost nauseating optimistic bluster rubbed off at least a little on him.</b>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>I’m hardly an optimist,</b>
  <span>” why that was the point he chose needed denial, no one probably would know. Not even Hawke, “</span>
  <b>it was sarcasm mostly</b>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Varric laughed, “</span>
  <b>even sarcastically optimistic rubs off you know. The point is, you showed Blondie many times that things he thought impossible, where possible. That a mage hating former slave with every reason to keep hating all mages - could come round to rally for the rights of mages being rather impressive… Or you proving someone could love him. Despite those feathered robes...</b>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “Fenris was treated dismally by a wicked man. I hardly did a thing but treat him with the respect he had overdue to him,” he deflected, though the next bit he sounded amused, Hawke looked at him, “</span>
  <b>I have feathered robes too, you know.</b>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>Well.. Birds of a feather,</b>
  <span>” he grinned, “</span>
  <b>I’m sorry you have to find out like this that your fashion sense is dismal…</b>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “</span>
  <b>I think rather it’s your fashion sense I’d like to call into question…</b>
  <span>” Familiar banter… It was… Fuck it felt good to have this back and forth again. And he felt more grounded. A stronger sense of himself perhaps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>Okay bear, go hibernate for the rest of the night… read your letter. I’ll keep watch for a while. Anyways-</b>
  <span>” his head nodded out to the shadowy outskirts, “</span>
  <b>seems that our latest recruits have it covered as well. And I’m very glad Blondie had the sense to know that there was a reason to keep you alive and hope for a cure...</b>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> At the mention of new recruits Hawke eyed the outskirts of the camp, further off. The daunting silhouette of the qunari and one of his chargers could be seen. If he focused he could hear their bantering. Reminding him of him and his own friends.  Hawke bumped the dwarf lightly with his shoulder, smiling, “</span>
  <b>I guess I’m glad as well… I… I missed this.</b>
  <span>”</span>
  <span></span>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>Getting your fashion sense questioned?</b>
  <span>” Varric said innocently.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>Please. It’s beyond reproach,</b>
  <span>” Hawke snorted, amusement in his voice. Though he jerked a bit in surprise as the dwarf flung his arms around him, hugging him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “</span>
  <b>Don’t shut us out, friend,</b>
  <span>” he sat back, once more reaching to squeeze Hawkes shoulder, “</span>
  <b>and now that I made that awkward… It’s a great time to go and do what I told you to do.</b>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>  Hawke smiled, “</span>
  <b>apparently I’ve got a friend who refuses to let me shut them out as it is. Might as well stop trying to do it. Foolish to think I could.</b>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>Damn right. Foolish is an exceptional word for it.</b>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p><span> “</span><b>Goodnight my small friend,</b><span>” he teased. Before heading towards his tent. Desperate to read the letter.</span> </p><p> </p><p> Varric for once letting him get away scott free for calling him small...</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm so impatient to re-unite Bear and Blondie. JS. T_T</p><p>Also woofgang. Hawke misses ins Mabari.</p><p>ps... Bear is the nickname his friends took to calling him more often then Hawke in the past. So that's a thing... hehe.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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